The #RoastYourself Challenge

So one of my best friends challenged me to do the #RoastYourself challenge.

Challenge accepted. (This is obviously only in written format because it’s a blog)


Where do I even commence?


How bout

I say I want to date a gent

But I can’t talk to any men,

Or flirt

Or send

A text to say I want to begin

This relationship…

I mean…friendship

Because I seem to friendzone every guy

Whose profile I swipe right

Because my standards are too high.

I say I’m really desperate

But also fed up with it

Is my singleness permanent?

I don’t know

Why don’t you tell me bout it?


I’m non binary

But my boyfriend might run away from me

Since I dress too manly

And question my sexuality

And crush on a girl

Who’ll never like me in reality


I dye my hair to look cool

But I pity the fool

Who bleaches their strands

Four times

Because she can’t stand

Her natural hair.

…oh wait. That’s me.


I’m Chinese,

Yet people find me

So white

Because my skin’s light

And I can barely write

Any mandarin

I don’t know

well known



Or films

Or songs

Yet I find it wrong

When others don’t know pop punk.


Back in high school

I was smarter and way less cool

Science was my tool

To get into Uni

I took all the honours

Now they’re a goner.

Started to get Cs and Ds

And dropped them from my degree

I tell people I work on a Bachelor of Arts…

….in health sciences

And I’m met with confused silences.

I try to explain,

But I never sound truly sane

I’m a failure to the science kids

And a failure to the arts kids

I tack on a minor

To make it all better

Yet I’m still not a go-getter


I want to make music

But don’t confuse it

With a melody

Since I can’t compose it

And try not to show it

But my lyrics aren’t that great

Without music to it.

I’d like to record a song

But I sing half the notes wrong

By myself..

Once my vocal partner is gone.


I say I play guitar

But in 5 years

I still can’t hold a bar…


And I never made it that far

By self teaching

Cause I’m just not that smart.


I call myself a slam poet,

But poetry slams,

I can’t go to it

Because I stutter

And my voice ain’t like butter

How I have a radio show,

I don’t even know


 I burnt grilled cheese

And I’m scared of bees

And I want to believe

I won’t die alone

With cats and dogs with fleas


I talk too loud

I’m queer and proud

But do people even care

Probably not.


Is this worth blogging

And instagramming

and tweeting

cause I’m always on the Internet

Yet I’m not even interesting.




BEDA Day 21: 2 years and 5 months

I wondered about how long it would take for me to stop feeling guilt for your death. Even though everyone else have said that there was nothing I could have done, that you would have killed yourself anyways.

Your lips curved upwards but your eyes were so sad, and even though I credit myself to be incredibly observant, I couldn’t see that. What was wrong with me? For over a year and a half, we would wave to each other when passing by and say “hi” when close enough. Not a single encounter went any further than that.

I know I shouldn’t, but I constantly beat myself up inside wondering how much longer you could have lived if I stopped to ask you what was wrong. Would you have graduated high school? Would I have seen you walk across that stage to accept your diploma?

I was flipping through my yearbook a few days ago to find my yearbook quote, and I found your picture. You looked so happy. Your smiled reached your eyes.

Maybe we didn’t end up very close, and I shouldn’t be feeling this awful, but once you get close to someone, no matter how far you drift apart, they’re always a part of your life.



I still haven’t collected all my thoughts yet. But I needed to get them out.

So. Orlando.

First of all, a beautiful and talented 22 years young woman named Christina Grimmie was murdered last Friday night. She was in the middle of a meet & greet / signing when she was shot multiple times. Her brother said that she opened her arms to the gunman, assuming he was going to hug her. Instead, her entire life was ripped away from her. Her family losing a daughter and a sister. Her friends losing a sweet and caring friend. And the world lost a talented creator and musician. Security at her concert failed her. More importantly, America failed her.

When I read about it late Friday night, I burst into tears. I cried Saturday as well. It was painful standing in an amusement park letting kids on rides and hoping that they’d all live to be 80.

I woke up Sunday seeing the hashtag #prayfororlando trending. After I found what had occurred, I was in shock for the rest of the day. Who would hate the fantastic beautiful shining LGBTQ+ community so much that the only option was to take away 49 lives? The lives of 49 men and women who were unabashedly afraid to be themselves. The lives of 49 people who still came out despite the stigma around LGBTQ+ issues and the community. The lives of 49 people who had their whole lives ahead of them to follow their dreams, or get married, or live and love to the fullest.

As a genderqueer person, this news hits so close to home. I’m a part of the LGBTQ+ community and I sometimes don’t realize just how much hatred we still get on a daily basis.

Isn’t it ironic how members of congress send out tweets asking people to pray for the victims’ families when they had such a big hand in murdering them?

In the 7 and a bit years President Obama has been in office, he has had to make 15 addresses for the aftermath of a shooting. In the time he’s been in office, he has also proposed 25 changes to America’s gun laws.

Not a single one has been passed by congress.

It angers me so much that the NRA pays each member of congress who’s against gun regulation around $1,000,000 each year. All this money is just a congratulatory reward to thank them for keeping their mouths shut and their votes pro gun.

What will it take for congress to realize the big picture? To realize that they’re killing the people they should be protecting? Will it have to come to one of their daughters getting shot? Will it be enough?